


The First Trollmas

by wolfdancer333



Category: Trolls (2016)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cute, F/M, Happy, Short & Sweet, Tenderness, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Trollmas, and thats okay, toothaches will ensue, we are all a bit of rainbows and grey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 08:32:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17546210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfdancer333/pseuds/wolfdancer333
Summary: It's their first Trollmas after being freed and after it's creation the year before but the Queen is feeling a bit down. Can she cheer up in time or will the Grey ultimately end up blotting out her heart? And what is Branch planning that could change their entire future?





	The First Trollmas

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely adore Trolls! It's an adorable, sweet movie and my daughter is a huge fan! So I write these fics to please me and her (but let's face it - mostly me! XD) and I really hope you all enjoy them! 
> 
> Also, it is extremely late for me posting these up since it's well after Christmas but - Happy Christmas to you all! I hope your new years are all happy, you are safe, and you know that someone out there cares about you! I am always here for any of you - I am not just a fanfic writer, I want to be your friend and I want you guys to know I am here. 
> 
> So I wish you all the best! <3

Cold wind rattled the hanging colourful pods of the Troll Tree. Large white flakes swirled through the air, coating the ground in a flurry of white. It was freezing with the cobbled streets covered in a thin layer of ice through Bergentown. 

Despite the weather and the cold, the Troll Tree was lit up with sparkling lights of all colours strung throughout it’s branches. The pods glittered from the glitter Trolls that had flounced around and scattered it in happy glee. Bergen and Troll alike stood around the Tree, talking and laughing and enjoying the day they had officially dubbed Trollmas. 

At the very top of the tree, battered by the cold winds of the Winter day, sat a lone Troll. Her legs were pulled in close to her chest as she stared out, away from the joy and lights behind her of Bergentown, and out towards the unknown of the forest. 

Her chin sat on her knees as she looked out, the cheer of the songs being sung and the laughter echoing out casting a small smile across her bleak face. 

Even the dark clouds hanging over them weren’t as dreary as she! 

But, then again, Poppy couldn’t remember _ever_ being this sad. 

Sure, they had almost been eaten by the Bergens below….But that was a thing of the past! Now –

She closed her bright magenta orbs, her smile widening, as she listens to the beautiful sounds of harmony from Bergen and Troll. She could almost see them now, beneath the boughs of the Troll Tree, sharing hot chocolate and glitter cakes. Troll and Bergen were all bundled up like fluffy snow-Troll and snow-Bergen! 

She giggled as she pictured what lie below, the sounds lifting her spirits. Vaguely, DJ’s beats pulsed through the thick Tree and out over the Town in waves of joy and happiness. Poppy could feel _it_ – she was their Queen, after all! The dancing, the singing, the talking, the laughter….It all built as a crescendo inside of her, lapping like gentle waves meeting a sandy shore. And a part of her longed, _yearned_ , to join in. 

Happiness was a part of her soul, a part of who she was. Poppy _was_ happiness! She hunched further into the thick warmth of the pink woollen jumper Bridget had sewn for her as a gift on Trollmas. Two pink heart shaped ear muffs covered her ears – made by DJ so she could still hear every sound through them but they sure kept her big ears nice and cozy! 

Guy had given her sparkling neon pink leggings with her name down one leg in glittering magenta cursive and Cooper had sewn her hat! It was a lot like a santa hat but it meant a lot to her as it was made from Cooper’s fur – and _boy_ was it waaaaaarm! The best part? Because it was made of Troll fur, the strands of her hair could weave through it unrestricted. 

It wouldn’t blow away and she didn’t have to smash her hair down to her skull. Cooper, too, had seemed quite pleased she thought with a quiet giggle. Opening her eyes slightly, she looked at the gloves on her hands that held her legs to her chest. 

Biggie’s gift had been necessary. 

Everyone knew her favourite colour was pink and Biggie had sewn the gloves that very colour. On the back of each was a crude Dinkles with her pink hair and she fought back her laughter, running one gloved finger over the back of one. 

Then there had been the fashion Twins. 

Satin and Chenille had not only done Poppy’s make-up for the Trollmas party she was absent from but they had also given her beautifully comfy snow boots. 

Leaning over to look at her feet, she wiggled her toes to shake off the thin dusting of snow that had begun to gather over her booted feet. The boots were filled on the inside with white fluffy fur that kept her feet super warm. The outside was from a material Poppy knew the Twins had taken extra special time to use: It was a plasticy rubbery material from a special tree in the forest. Waterproof, slip proof, and with superb traction it made the perfect boot!

And they were, of course, pink. 

Fuzzbert’s gift had been special, too!

The little hair covered Troll had given her a handemade scarf that was white and pale blue like the dress she wore beneath her woollen jumper. She had the scarf wrapped firmly around her neck as she buried her cold nose further into the softly sewn material that both tickled her and caressed her. 

Magenta orbs winced slightly when she thought of Smidge’s gift but it was nice nonetheless! Being so small, Smidge had been the one to notice Poppy’s….Maturity. Troll girls, like most women of most species, have breasts and when it became apparent that she did, indeed, have them….Smidge had given her a bra. It was extremely embarrassing for the Queen but Smidge had only laughed it off with a wink. When the small Troll left her alone, Poppy understood why.

The bra was a deep red with sparkling pink trim. It fit her perfectly but what still brought heat to her cheeks, legs squeezing into her chest, was what each cup had on the front: on one cup it said ‘Kiss’ and on the other it said ‘Me’. 

Now, Poppy wasn’t stupid. Oblivious? Sure. Dense? Sometimes. Naive? Her middle name!

But not stupid.

Trolls had sex. It was a natural biological function. But the thought of _Smidge_ – one of her Snack Pack, therefore, one of her oldest and bestest friends – giving her a gift like that nearly sent her into a blush that would never fade. 

And there had been other gifts between them too!

All kinds of gifts had passed between the Trolls and Bergens throughout the day and Poppy couldn’t have been more excited than when she had woken up, realizing it was Trollmas. She had even sang 3 morning songs rather than her usual one!

But as the day dwindled past, her good mood had slowly dropped.

The problem?

Unconsciously, her eyes fell to the snow covered Troll Tree, seeing down past the branches and to the base where a wooden door sat. 

She knew who lived there – everyone did – and though the Troll inside was no longer the grey Troll she had first met, Branch always remained right at the edges of her grasp but never in reach. It was so _frustrating_! 

A small, cold snowflake landed on the bridge of her nose and she shivered, teeth chattering as she shook her head. Looking up she was met with a dark sky, almost black. Flakes continued to fall in a torrent of cold and ice. A freezing breeze rustled over the Troll Queen and she looked down, her heart sinking.

It was so late now….

The party wasn’t in full swing any more – it had wound down after there had been way too much Glitter Punch consumed – but everyone was still heartily enjoying themselves, together – all except one Troll locked in his bunker.

Who was, in turn, ruining it for her. 

Because if there was one Troll she wanted to see today, one Troll whose voice she wanted to hear, it was his.

But he was being so-so-so- Branch!

Groaning, Poppy stands to her feet and dusts the white snow off her in irritated pats. When the snow is off she turns to head back to a wooden stairwell that curves around the Troll Tree to the ground, but pauses. 

Looking up at the sky one last time, she whispers softly, “Happy Trollmas, Mom.”

Poppy didn’t like to look back on the past and she hadn’t even known her mother before she’d been snatched by the Bergens. It was what had prompted her father to make their escape the next day rather than plan it farther ahead like he had originally wanted. Losing Hope was like losing, well, hope. 

She walked over the snow dusted leaves of the Troll Tree, the wind swirling the white flakes around her feet, and made her way to the middle where a bright light shone up through the leaves and the branches. 

The music – quieter than it had been hours ago when the party had been raging – soothed her as she stepped onto the wooden bridge that curved and twisted around the Troll Tree. Smaller sections branched out, leading to the different pods of every Troll, and pride swelled up in Poppy’s breast. 

The Troll Tree had been their home – it was a part of them; a living breathing being that needed them as much as they needed it – and it still provided for them. Just before the bridge was built, Branch had been complaining about safety, Poppy remembered fondly. Slowly, she walked down the ramp and out of the bitter cold. 

Branch had complained and the next day, the ramp had been craved elegantly from the same wood as the Troll Tree, connecting them to the Tree itself. 

A soft smile graced her lips as she stopped, looking over at the bark of the rounded trunk. Placing a gloved hand on the bark of the Tree, Poppy smiled wider and, trying her best to keep her spirits up, told the Tree: “Happy Trollmas. We will take care of you like you take care of us, I promise. You’re in good hands, trust me – Karma is the best!”

Heat seeped through the stitching of her glove and spread into her hand. A grin curved her lips wide and she nodded exuberantly. “See? You trust us, we’ll trust you! No Troll left behind!” 

Then, sheepishly, “Or Tree.”

One minute more and then she hesitantly parted with the Troll Tree, a bit more cheer in her step and the gentle hum of a song in her throat. How badly she wanted to sing! 

She loved to sing, she was Queen of the Trolls! Singing was in her job description! 

But without Branch – and his grandma _wasn’t_ lying, angel didn’t even cover Branch’s voice – it just didn’t seem….Right.

She _wanted_ to sing with the reclusive Troll. 

Pink, glittery cheeks darkening slightly Poppy cleared her throat as she hurried down the ramp, her boots clopping on the wood in a comforting rhythm. DJ’s music pulsed in a steady beat through the Troll Tree where Trolls were either in their pods, sitting on the branches cuddled together, families sharing Biggie’s Glitter Cocoa, and the merriment of the Trolls and Bergens at the base of the Tree carried up to her in a muted hum. 

The laughter of her friends pulled at her heart strings and she wanted to rush down there, join them, but a deeper part of her knew she belonged somewhere else. 

_With_ someone else.

Her boots came to halt as she reached a crossroads in the wooden ramp. One curled around the Tree in loops, ending at what she knew would be what was dubbed the Royal Mushroom – the mushroom she and Branch had shared their first _real_ hug on. The other twisted through branches before leading to the side of the Troll Tree where a gigantic, gnarled root poked up from the ground. And she knew that right next to that root, carved into the Troll Tree, was a door.

A small elegantly carved railing on the open side of the ramp afforded her the freedom to look down. 

What greeted her warmed her heart more than all the wool in Troll Village, the glitter on her cheeks sparkling and flashing a rainbow hue from the multi-coloured glitter lights strung around the Troll Tree festively. King Gristle and Queen Bridget were sitting at the base of the Tree, Gristle’s arm hung over Bridget’s shoulder. His cape wrapped around them, keeping them warm. 

They were talking to the Snack Pack who were huddled around them, sitting on them and watching the festivities like their Queen. Her sight spread from the base of the Tree outwards as she gazed upon the Bergens and Trolls simply existing, in harmony, together. 

And for the first time, Poppy wondered if maybe she had made her mother proud.

Blinking past the tears building in the back of her eyes, she turned from the happiness below her with a ping of jealousy. 

What was wrong with her?

She wanted to blame it being Trollmas for her introspective thoughts but she knew what the real problem was.

And it’s name was Branch.

Sighing, coming to a full circle, Poppy leaned her back against the railing and tilted her head back. The colourful lights flickered above her, glittery and bright. They were strewn everywhere with sparkles of glitter dusting the Troll Tree leaves. Unlike the top of the Tree that had been dusted in fallen snow, the inner Tree was bright and warm, glowing an orange-yellow from the lanterns built into the wood ramp. She still didn’t know how they worked but chalked it up to the Tree. Who was she to question a good thing? 

A rainbow hue of colours fell over her and she watched the lights, letting go of her thoughts until the lights blurred slightly in her vision. 

There she stayed, stuck in the lights and blank thoughts. Poppy had learned a lot since their last Trollmas, since before even then really, but she still hadn’t quite grasped how to deal with the aftermath of Grey that still lingered within her. Sometimes, rarely, but like now, she would get this horrible blankness that left her….Empty. 

No thoughts, no feelings. 

Just Poppy. 

It wasn’t necessarily bad. There was a little grey in every Troll. Just like she knew – and had always known – there was happiness in every Troll, bright beautiful colours just begging to burst free. But finding the balance between rainbow and grey was proving to be more difficult than she had thought.

She blinked quickly, the lights coming back into focus, and the empty gulf in her chest receded until she could feel her heart glowing again. She wasn’t happy but she wasn’t grey, she was….

“Poppy!”

At the shout of her name, she startled. Snapping her head forward she had just enough time to see cobalt blue strands of familiar hair wrap tightly around her waist. Moments later she was jerked forward and set abruptly in front of the Troll she had wanted to see since she first woke up that morning.

Thick strands of deep blue unwound from their gentle grip around her and she met the concerned and panicked icy pools. They were firmly glaring at her, his light purple nose brighter from the chilly Winter air. 

His glare set off something within the happy Queen as she remembered the downtrodden, emptiness she’d felt earlier. 

Sighing loudly in irritation, Poppy threw her pink eyes up towards the boughs of the Troll Tree as she exasperatedly asked, “Yes, Branch?”

He must have sensed the tension between them because his glare lessened slightly but the wrinkles at the corners of his narrow eyes remained from all the years he had denied himself happiness. For a moment, Poppy wanted to apologize and spend the rest of the night with Branch and her friends, sipping Glitter Cocoa and eating Glitter Cakes. 

But gnawing Grey still twisted through her colourful heart. 

This time, her sigh was weary. “Sorry, Branch. You didn’t deserve that, it’s just….” She waved a pink gloved hand and gave him a smile she truly she didn’t feel. “I’m not the best Troll to be around. Kind of….Grumpy.”

A snort echoed through her woollen gloves as one corner of Bracnh’s lips tilted upwards into a half-smirk. The icy blue of his eyes mellowed into the brightness of a clear sky and Poppy felt the sparkles on her cheeks brighten. “The Queen of Trolls? _Grumpy_? Not possible.”

“You’re….” His voice faded off and this time, her cheeks darkened and she pulled her bottom lip in, a strawberry red blush dusting across the bridge of her nose. “Well, you’re Poppy.”

And when Branch said it, it all suddenly made sense. 

She wasn’t Grey. She wasn’t Cupcakes and Rainbows. The emptiness she was constantly trying to fill with bright colours and parties and laughter couldn’t be filled. Because it wasn’t empty. All this time, this whole year, she had dealt with the aftermath, trying to mold the Grey inside of her with the colours that burst through her blood. All along the answer she had been seeking was right in front of her: that feeling, that emptiness….It wasn’t emptiness at all!

It lacked the despondent Grey that stripped her of her colours and it lacked the rainbow of her blood because that’s exactly what it was! It was both. 

All this time, she had been searching for a way to mix them when she had already _been_ mixing them!

Feeling her heart lighten, she smiled at Branch toothily, holding her hands behind her back as she told him brightly, “Exactly!”

The confusion that crossed his face was amusing but then he shook his head, royal blue strands of hair catching the colourful lights and making it glimmer a beautiful sheen of purple and blue. 

“Sooooooooo….Branch.”

The way she said his name made the teal Troll tense, his gaze instantly cautious.

“What?” He enunciated slowly. 

She grinned. “Happy Trollmas.”

“Actually, Poppy….” At the darkening of his teal cheeks into a dark blueberry, Poppy leaned over with wide, pink orbs itching to know what made the grumpy Troll so nervous. It was just _her_ after all. “Could you….Come to the bunker with me? There’s something I want to show you.”

Branch lifted a large blue hand to rub at the back of his head and Poppy leaned back, smiling and nodding happily. “Lead the way!”

Falling into step together, the two Trolls made their way down the wooden ramp, greeting the Trolls who called out to them. The cold Winter night blanketed the world and yet, Poppy couldn’t remember ever being so warm. The sharpness of the snow and the biting wind seemed like a far off memory to her as she walked next to her best friend out of all the Trolls – though she would never, ever say that out loud!

She fiddled with her gloves in front of her as they walked, looking around at the beauty that greeted her. Vaguely, from the boughs of the tree, the harmonious voices of the Trolls rang out in a, for once, quiet symphony. Deep tones were ridden by bright high notes and soon after, the Bergens joined in with gruff humming that lifted the song up, giving it a depth no Troll could ever pull off. 

As she walked next to Branch, the song of her people – _all_ of her people, Bergen and Troll – ringing out around her, a peaceful contentment settled in her chest.

Without thinking about her actions, she reached out for the warmth next to her and curled a gloved hand into a teal blue one. Heart racing, Poppy brimmed with happiness and closing her eyes, the Queen of Trolls tilted back her head and let colour burst from her lips.

The voice of the Queen echoed out. It was not overpowering or demanding but it grabbed the attention of every soul lifted in chorus. Even when Branch’s beautiful voice didn’t echo out with hers, Poppy grinned when he gave her hand a tight squeeze and a chuckle rumbled through their joined hands. He was smiling when she looked over at him. 

When their gazes met, Poppy’s powerful voice quieted to a soft, sweet tune that brought forth many a tear to those gathered around. The previous King Peppy watched from his pod as his pink daughter walked hand in hand with the Troll everyone had given up on even, he thought with remorse, himself. 

Hands held tight, Peppy watched with a smile. 

He couldn’t help but mumble to the frigid air, hoping the wind carried his words to the wife he had lost. “Our little girl is all grown up Hope. I know you’re just as proud as I am. Keep watch over her will you?”

The wet sheen that glossed across his faded, wrinkled eyes went unnoticed as the previous King of Trolls joined into the song with all the power his aging voice still held. 

The Snack Pack, huddled with Bridget and Gristle, all shared matching grins when Poppy’s voice rang out, sweetly uplifting. Winter was forgotten in the wake of colourful lights and the chorus of song. Every heart glowed that night. There was not a single Troll or Bergen who could ignore or deny the bubbling happiness that gurgled through their blood. 

As one, they became one.

Her voice gently faded the moment her boots crunched into the thin layer of snow that littered the cold, hard ground. Branch, hand still in hers, stepped with her as she led them off the ramp and to the edge of the Troll Tree’s giant boughs. Darkness lay beyond, the unknown roaring out at her but she wasn’t afraid.

For Poppy knew that out there lie nothing but a rainbow hidden behind the clouds. In every shadow there was light and as she gazed out, Poppy grasped what it meant to be Queen. 

And just as quickly, she knew she had a lot of growing up to do before she could catch up to her mother, the pink Troll she had only one picture of. It lie hidden and buried beneath her bright pink pillowcase at home, always with her when she slept at night and rose in the morning. The snow fell in thicker lumps, bright white encasing the ground in a blanket of cold. Hard to believe the danger that lurked in the deathly grip of Winter when the untouched snow sparkled a fresh, pure white that tempted Poppy to come out and play.

As if sensing the urge to make a snow Troll, Branch gave her hand a gentle tug and she turned her head to look at him. Then her gaze fell to their joined hands at the same time his did. The warmth of Branch’s hand receded as he slowly pulled away from her and when he turned, she thought for a single, horrible moment he had changed his mind about her coming to his bunker. Not realizing how much she wanted to spend time with him, Poppy could feel her heart sinking.

“Are you coming in or are you going to stand out there all night? Because I am not thawing you out tomorrow!”

At the gruff, irritated voice Poppy shook her head and looked up with confusion. Her magenta orbs fell on the teal Troll with scrunched eyebrows and a frown before looking at the open doorway that led into his bunker. 

Heart now soaring, Poppy hummed happily as she skipped through the door and was assaulted by the immediate heat that enveloped her. A soft lulling scent of a cocoa she didn’t recognize – but resembled chocolate – hovered in the air, tantalizing and making her mouth water. She blinked rapidly at the dimly lit corridor she knew led down further into Branch’s underground bunker. The bunker itself stretched all the way to right beneath the Troll Tree, encased in the thick sturdy roots. 

It was Branch’s idea of Heaven and Poppy had never really understood why.

Until she emerged from the corridor after Branch, that is.

The dark tunnel that led to Branch’s home had been warm but when she stepped out of the corridor, her booted feet thumping onto the hard soil, a comforting lull of heat made her release a contented sigh. Beneath the bowels of the Tree and hidden in the earthy soil lie Branch’s home. At first, Poppy had been dubious and hesitant to not cajole him into a pod.

And Branch had even agreed to one!

But Poppy had seen the turmoil swirling in those light blue eyes that were now bright with excitement as he stepped in front of her and blocked her view of the makeshift living room he had concocted. 

Even when he gestured for her to close her eyes – which she did, she trusted Branch – she could picture it like the back of her hand. 

The room they stood in was rounded, the walls and floor made of packed dirt. The ceiling, too, was soil but softer and mossy. Thin tendrils of roots wound through the ceiling, dipping low enough for Branch to hand some lanterns for light. Off to her right was a dug out fireplace with a long wooden bench big enough to fit the Snack Pack – which they had insisted he make and the Twins had immediately made stuffed cushions for – with a low stone table.

Surrounding the outer edge of the fireplace was stone – for safety! In the middle of the round living room was a rug made entirely of leaves that Branch himself had woven together. And she knew that what lie beneath was a trap door. 

So Branch. 

Scattered about, dug out of the soil, were cupboards Branch had dug out for his supply stocks – “You never know when you might need more wood, Poppy!” – and where she also knew he kept an assortment of knick knacks, some of which he had, wearily, told her belonged to his grandmother that he couldn’t part with. 

She knew that straight ahead, past the living room and through a wooden door built into the soil attached to a Tree root, was Branch’s bedroom. She’d never been in there and every time she questioned, her best friend always seemed to nervously dodge the room as if there was a Huffino secretly stashed in there! Poppy was a very curious girl by nature and the urge to snoop was hard to resist. 

But all she had to do was look into those nervous, panicky blue eyes, lit up with a hint of fear tracing the edges, and she would back off.

Nothing – absolutely _nothing_ – was worth losing Branch.

To the left, she knew there was a hidden stairwell that led up to 4 more floors – she hadn’t been entirely listening to his tour and only really remembered that there was a gym somewhere up there and a panic room. Further along the wall was an archway made of wood.

The wonderfully rich scent of the cocoa she didn’t recognize and the heady smell of cinnamon and anise was wafting from the doorway. Poppy’s nose twitched as she inhaled deeply, sighing out with a blissful smile. Stone counters and a makeshift stove lied in the kitchen along with all of Branch’s stockpiled food. Some of it would keep for years and some of it was for recent bashing. There was a small bathroom that branched – ha, Branch – out from the kitchen with a wooden door. 

There were lanterns – made of leaves and coated in the fire retardant saliva of the Monjolian Jerkleflume – hung about with what she knew held fire unlike the other Trolls who used the bugs of the forest. For some reason – a reason Poppy eventually intended to ask about – Branch never used the bugs unless it was an emergency. 

Her companion was silent as she mapped out his home in her mind in boredom before she couldn’t take it any more and blurted out with a groan, “Braaaaaanch!”

“I’m almost done.”

Nervousness was not something Poppy was unused to with Branch but there was an underlying current of fear that wormed it’s way into her heart. 

Her voice fell into a soft question as she felt her ears twitch beneath the earmuffs, trying to hear what her best friend was up to that had him so fearful. “Branch, you really don’t have to –“

“I _want_ to.”

Her ears bent downwards slightly in her earmuffs and if her eyes had been open, they would be wide and blinking in shock at the seemingly desperate and firm way Branch had spoken with her. Caustic and sarcastic she could handle. Even grumpy and stubborn she could deal with!

But this Branch – a Branch who was both her best friend and a new Troll with all his colours that swirled with hers in a twisted tangle she didn’t understand – was different.

She could handle their bantering and their childish arguments, could deal with the fact that he had a son who was a remote control named Gary. The reclusive nature she could understand and, sometimes when necessary, drag him out of it. Poppy knew there was something…. _Different_ between her and Branch, something she and the rest of the Snack Pack didn’t share.

It hummed and sang through her but it didn’t burst into colour like when she sang or danced. This was a tune only her heart could hear. 

And Branch was the one singing it.

Even though he never opened his mouth, whenever they were together, her body seemed to understand a rhythm, a song, words that Branch was, unconsciously, singing to her. A candy rush of sweet, slow and steady, rushed through her blood when the blue Troll was with her and it had taken her an awfully long time to know what it might mean – and a trip to the Troll Library helped!

There were stories that some Trolls – without any reason or warning or explanation – formed unbreakable bonds. A bond that was unable to be denied and powerless to stop. It was stronger than love itself and after she had read those words, Poppy had known immediately that _that_ was her answer for what existed between them. Creek had once been the Troll she had thought would rule at her side.

Now she couldn’t see it being anyone _but_ Branch.

“Poppy….” He grabbed her hands in his own and held them. “Open your eyes.”

Not sure what she was expecting to see, Poppy’s excited curiosity welled up inside of her as she bounced on her feet and squeezed Branch’s hands. Magenta pools snapped open, mouth dropping to let out a shout of joy…. 

That immediately faded into a confused, breathy sigh when all she saw was Branch. Sure, he was a nice gift but she had thought…. 

What, exactly?

He would ask her to be his mate, his Troll Queen, and they would end up happily ever after? 

Not all fairytales end the same way and she had let herself get drawn in by the way his hands fit in hers like a puzzle, the way each single strand of their living hair seemed to vibrate together, how their blood sang the same quietly sweet tune, and the way her heart only glowed – _truly_ glowed – when she was with him. She’d let herself believe in stories when she should have listened to reality.

Then, Branch took a shakily mighty inhale, let go of her hands with extreme reluctance and a penetratingly fearful look, and moved to her right. He stood next to her, the warmth of his fuzzy skin calling out to her own and her body vibrated in answer as she only grew more and more dumbfounded by what she saw.

Branch being her gift was much better than…. 

He’d gotten her a….

A small, square wooden box sat in the middle of the leafy rug.

Out of all the gifts she’d received from her friends, her father, the Trolls and even the Bergens….It was Branch’s that left her perplexed. 

A _box_. 

What…In the fluffy rainbows…Was she supposed to do…With a _box_!?

The confusion must have been plastered in her magenta orbs and across her face when she turned to look at him because Branch only looked away from her, off to the side, and slid something hard and cold into her hand. When she brought up her hand, she stared down at the metal ‘face’ of Gary, the bright green button on the remote with a little note taped above with the words hastily scrawled: ‘Push Me’. 

Both of her thumbs pressed the button as she stared, still utterly bewildered, at Gary. 

Until she heard the whirring.

Wide, pink eyes slowly looked up and her heart pounded into her throat, tears brimming at the corners and her lips twitching as if to smile.

The small square box began to unfold and unwrap itself. Piece by wooden piece, it unfurled in jerky, stuttering movements and a whirring quiet grind. Gears worked tirelessly as the box morphed and shifted into something she could never have dreamed. And boy did she dream but nothing, no gift, compared to this box.

Slowly, the living room was engulfed by the gift spread out before her, the proportions perfectly in line with the room itself and not a single thing out of place or disturbed, as if Branch had been planning this.

A small pink boot stepped forward in the quiet that followed. A single step as her wide eyes roamed over the gift, Gary now clutched in her gloved hands the only thing keeping her grounded to the bunker. Swallowing through the lump in her throat, Poppy truly took in the masterpiece Branch had made for her. 

The box had erupted like a wooden volcano.

A large, square had unfolded across the living room earth in perfect measurements, symmetrical and perfect. The top layer of wood was covered with a thick coat of silvery sparkling glitter she knew belonged to only one Troll – and the mere thought that not only had her friends _known_ about this on some level but that Branch had asked them for help was enough to send her heart fluttering.

To make it even more real, Branch had, somehow, also scattered snow across the glittery floor that had not melted in the heat or been upturned when packed into the small box. It was a feat she would ask him later when words returned to her. 

She couldn’t stop her gaze from roving over it in silent wonder and heart pounding awe.

A wooden backdrop had also popped up from the back of the small box – and how in the rainbows did he _pack all that into a small box_!? – and a breathy giggle burst out when she saw Harper’s involvement. It was Branch who had painted it – Harper was, no offence to Branch, a much better artist – but she could see strokes of Harper in the rainbow drop of blues and pinks that swirled together, creating a harmony and balance of their colours that stole her breath from her lungs. Blue and pink made a beautiful shade of purple unlike any she had ever seen.

She looked up when something dangling caught her eye.

And instantly, Gary fell from her hands.

Suspended above the glittery, snow dusted floor hung faded gifts she would recognize anywhere. Her invitations – every single one she had ever made and given the grumpy Troll from the time she could scrap until that very last one she had seen him stomp mercilessly into the ground – hung from silken strings to wooden poles at every corner.

They connected to the backdrop and every invitation she had seen him destroy, rip up, and cupcakes, even the one she had seen him _burn_ all stared back at her. She saw the many hours she spent making each one, the memories of the invitations coalescing around her as they filled her mind. Every moment she had spent hoping, wishing, to open up that heart and erase the Grey. 

He’d kept them.

Every last one, not a single invitation was missing.

And they were all – though faded and burnt and taped – _fixed_.

There were no words. Her lungs refused to work, breath held still as the emotional Troll was so overwhelmed she couldn’t feel anything at all! There were so many feelings and emotions tearing through her she didn’t have time to feel them all. 

Then the music started playing.

It was a tune she recognized, a tune she had heard only once but never forgotten that Trollmas the year before. After the Bergens had went home, full of joy and cheer, the Trolls had gathered themselves into their pods and slept, dreaming of glittery happiness. 

But that night, Poppy had sat by her window in her pod, gazing out at Bergen Town with a giant smile on her face. What more could she ever want? Who could be more lucky than her? She had the whole Snack Pack, the Bergens were warming up to them, she had Bridget as a best friend! Plus she and Branch had succeeded in their – well, hers – mission to bring happiness to the Bergens and peace to the Trolls!

Lost in her dreamy thoughts, she almost moved away from the hole in her pod that served as a window when she heard it.

The voice was as familiar as her own – and had sung to her all night – and she had searched the base of Tree, leaning out of her window, until she saw him. That teal skin and royal blue hair caught her eye as her chin dropped to the rounded ledge of her window, pink eyes wide.

She’d heard his voice enough times to know it but every time she heard it, something stirred in her belly. Branch’s voice was beautiful as he sung the notes in perfect pitch, eyes closed as he sang at the base of the Tree. 

The song he had sung then was just beginning to play, the notes dancing through her mind and her heart. As if called by the song, she exhaled as her breath returned to her. Her chest was tight and her lungs could barely filter in air but her body was light enough she feared she might disappear at any moment only to find this was all a dream. 

And if it was, it was the best dream. Ever.

A pressure in her hand snaps her back into her body she hadn’t realized had started trembling from the emotions ravaging her. The hand in hers was firm and steady, like the Troll himself. He grounded her, brought her back to this moment she would never forget. 

Because not only 2 seconds later did she realize that it would get tremendously better.

With a giant heave and a splutter, a large fountain of glitter sprayed from behind the painted backdrop. The tiny specks glimmered in the dim light, the fountain spewing forth a sparkling eruption. When the glitter didn’t stop, overflowing and coating the entire living room in a glittering sheen, she found the strength to look over at Branch.

His eyes were narrowed onto the glitter as if the harder he glared, the more the monstrous sparkles might stop. 

They didn’t.

His hand tightened on hers as he mumbled, “It was meant to be payback to _you_. Not me.”

The indignation in his voice made her lips twitch as she struggled to hide her grin, finally able to _feel_. 

She wasn’t just rainbows and happiness or grey and she wasn’t just Poppy either. There was so much more to the world than that. And if she wanted to bring happiness to the whole world – which she did! Life goal! – she first had to start with herself. 

What made her happy was a fountain of glitter that was threatening to become an ocean around them as it spilled towards their feet and the sarcastic Troll she realized she loved.

She loved her friends. She loved her Dad. She had even come to love the Bergens! Well…Okay, most of the Bergens. She was still working on a few of them!

But the love that flowed through her as she smiled wide was completely different.

_Branch_ was different.

The moodiest, grumpiest, greyest Troll of them all was _her_ happiness.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.

The strength and warmth of Branch’s hand in hers propelled her, urged her to do daring things she’d never done, to take risks and most importantly: to love with all the love that was pouring into every fibre of her being. 

She led them both towards the glittery floor, stepping up and pulling a garbled protesting Branch behind her. When she reached the middle of the floor, glitter sprayed down on her like shiny snow, and she turned to face Branch. Her free hand sought his until she held both of his in hers, looking into Branch’s confused ice blue eyes with a bright smile. 

It’s okay if he didn’t understand yet. It had taken her a long time too.

All her inhibitions fled, leaving behind only a tender warmth settled in her chest and a bright happiness. Raising their hands, she laced her fingers through his and like that time in the pot when she had been grey, Poppy led him into a dance to the music he had sung that night beneath the years and memories of invitations frozen in time above them.

Chocolaty cocoa and the scent of cinnamon wrap her in a peaceful contentment, her heart beat steady and sure. Her head falls to his chest as she closes her eyes and wraps her arms around the Troll she loves. For a long moment when all he does is freeze, Poppy wonders if this was right, but then his chin falls to her forehead and his own arms settle over her shoulders. 

Then they dance, slowly, as the blue and pink of their skin glows.

A large grin breaks Poppy’s lips, her forehead resting over the beat of Branch’s heart, her eyes closed and she thinks: 

_I guess Dad’s Crown will be a good gift for Branch after all._


End file.
